Ask Acoventure: Electric Boogaloo!

[Veltharion]

Veltharion crossed his arms over his chest as their guide spoke, nodding along as if the man's words about supplying a cult of bog dwellers with stupid teenagers in exchange for sex with their cult leader was completely normal and not at all concerning. The Barabel acolyte hummed thoughtfully, tail flicking out behind him for comfort or balance as Professor steered the boat through the waterways toward their prize.

Standing at the front of their craft Veltharion looked at the cloud of knee-height mist dubiously, though reaching out with the Force told him nothing. He recalled the old man mentioning that it would release a chemical that would make you believe you were in excruciating pain, but it was striking to see the vibrant jungle seemingly drained of color and life wherever the mist touched.

"The Hungry One is silent, but this one doez not believe that this bodez well for us. Any ideaz?"

@Sreeya @Javier esschoolbus @Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Vossari stepped off the boat. By this point, his ears had tuned out whatever gibberish this shockingly helpful swamp yokel would dispense. Dude gets his rocks off in exchange for selling the souls of some assholes to a bog witch? Sounds about right for the ethics of the kinds of people Sith hang around.

Vossari reached out through the force and sensed a maliciousness in the mist. Also, his helmet's HUD readings demonstrated that the mist ahead was definitely some kind of toxin. These facts, along with the woodsman's warning, indicated that going straight ahead was probably a bad idea.

While the environmental suit had been punctured by a fucking koala, the whole point of the suit was to have a backup in case of a problem, because problems stuck to Vossari like flies on shit. Vossari pulled off his helmet, letting his braidz fall free as he donned a filter mask from his suit.

Once this was done, he slipped his helmet back on. The breach to his suit was small enough that it would still be effective. He sensed some kind of intelligence from the mist. Vossari's experience with scary rocks in the forest taught him that, sometimes, there were things in jungles that just wanted to kill you for no reason. Maybe this was one such situation? At the very least, it was clear that whatever was cartoonishly draining the swamp of color was connected directly to the mist. Vossari only hoped he didn't end this expedition completely drained of his color.

"Looks like we need someone to scout ahead. Y'all stick to the trees." Vossari reached in front of him with both hands, creating a gentle gust with the Force that would hopefully blow some of the mist away from him. Even if not, he had his filter and his damaged environmental suit. He gave Blitzen a pat on the head before pointing that he stay by the boat, away from the mist.

And then he trudged forwards. In his mind, he reached out to try to connect with whatever intelligence was guiding this mist. Hey there, mist, it's me, ya boy. Any chance you wanna...talk it out?

@Sreeya @Nefieslab @Rom @Javier esschoolbus

 

[Nash]

Nash must have been tripping balls. None of this made sense otherwise. They ferried Swamp Grandpa over for a booty call? The twi’lek stared in stunned silence as the man spoke and the Togruta casually dragged the other kids off. Braidz volunteered to investigate, which left Nash pondering what she would do.

Curiosity got the best of her.

While the others went after the flowers, Nash was entirely too curious about the cult and their shady ways, “Yeah great job team..I’mma just… scope shit out..” She announced to no one in particular before shuffling away to see what the cutlists would do and if they had anything she could steal while they were busy getting weird with the college kids.

With luck Nash would stumble into something more interesting than crusty old man balls as Swamp Gramps got busy.

@Fine Dining Set @Javier esschoolbus @Rom @Nefieslab

 

[Arak Ragnos]

Arak was happy that not only did they take out their rivals in the hunt for the precious purple plant, but that they also escaped Scales older brother without any casualties. As Smash (@Sreeya) wrapped her arm around him then abruptly thrusted the helmet into his chest he began coughing having the wind knocked out of him. “What was that for?” He got out between coughing fits. As Scales offered up a fist bump he looked at his hand and returned the gesture unsure of its meaning.

He put the helmet on before sitting back down and following the directions the guide gave him. He could already tell there was difference by the fact the foliage was all grey. He climbed out of the speeder and turned to the others tapping his helmet, “Don’t forget to put on.”

He would walk till the mist got to roughly half way up his chest. He couldn’t help but notice that the mist felt heavy. He was completely unsure why. He began looking around the trees till he noticed a sturdy looking branch. He jumped up to it with the Force feeling lighter as he left the mist.

He tried linking to Braids (@Fine Dining Set) telepathically so he could actually talk to him. “The mist is oddly heavy. It also reaches my chest so I jumped into a tree. What's your plan for getting deeper in?" He used his height advantage to try and scout for any breaks in the mist.

@Rom @Nefieslab

 

[The Storyteller]

The old man just rested on the speeder as the Sith acolytes pondered their situation with their quest and goal - well, most of them did. He watched in amusement as Nash decided that she was going to go and check out the cult rather than follow the flowers into a poisonous hellscape... she was probably the smart one to be honest. If he knew anything about the Sith, it was that they would be far more likely to use the unspeakable pain and visions of the poison as a teaching aide in their schools and academies and such.

Didn't bother him none - he had a puppy, a hot Togruta girlfriend, his speeder and some beers in the hidden mini fridge.

Veltharion's insight was correct - the situation did not bode well for people wanting to gain access to the plants.

Watching as Vossari pulled out a face mask and slid it into place, the old man tapped the secret case and grabbed a cold beer from his speeder's built in cooler. It seemed to him, by the way that Vossari strapped up like that, that the kid had been through some shit that involved being terrified of some kind of airborne pathogen, or virus, fucking up his lungs and had gotten very used to taking precautions.

Good for him.

He even assisted Vossari, scratching the base of Blitzen's neck to calm the dog so it didn't go blundering in after its new favourite sentient. Vossari would notice, as he stepped onto the shore, that the presence in the Force seemed to react to his presence. The mist seemed to cling to him even more than before, swirling around him in eddies that were very clearly not from his movements. Instead he was mentally bombarded by a train of thought that he would clearly be able to tell wasn't his own.

Breathe deeply.

It was insistent but it was, to Vossari, obviously something from around here, trying to force him to obey. Thankfully it was more like a very persistent, very annoying, fly trying to fly into his eye rather than a clear and present threat. Annoying? Certainly. Threatening? Hardly.

What was far more irritating, and worrying, was the way the end of his artificially-shortened finger seemed to be itching. Was it just a result of the bite and burn technique? Maybe... it had been itchy on the speeder too. But maybe it was the fact that it was fully exposed to the mist?

Either way... it was very itchy.

Whereas Vossari had a full environmental suit and Veltharion had elected to hang back, Arak stepped boldly into the mist with his newly acquired helmet on and just his regular clothes. Almost immediately, Arak would begin to feel his skin beginning to itch - though he would not know it, it was a similar thing that was happening to Vossari. Even as he gathered the Force to make his jump into the tree's branches, he would begin to feel differently about the mist.

Not massively but enough that he was beginning to think it wasn't as bad as people seemed to be suggesting. It must have been that they were weak and deserved their fates - whereas he was a proud member of a species and an order of strength and knowledge. Surely he would be able to breathe the mist without issue? After all, it would probably give him a better chance at analysing the toxins. As he linked to Vossari through the Force, sat up in the tree, Veltharion would be the able to see as Arak's exposed hands seemed to be losing some of their red colour, fading slightly.

-- MEANWHILE, SOMEWHERE ELSE NOT TOO FAR AWAY --​

Nash set out in a different direction from the purple plants, their evil voodoo mist and the weird old man drinking beer on his speeder. Whereas her allies were contemplating how to reach their objective, Nash was pushing her way through the undergrowth to see what the hells was wrong with the natives of this planet - and if it could be profitable.

As she pushed through the plant life, she would be able to sense life up ahead of her that was more complex. The kind of feeling she would get for people through the Force, the instinctive understanding that there were people up ahead.

And that one of them was armed.

Armed with something that the Force was telling her was... different, was unique in a way that none of the rest of the things around here weren't. This was a weapon that screamed anger, hunger, thirst and pride into the Force and as she stepped through the foliage she would spot it immediately - a dagger held in the hand of one of the togruta young men she had seen earlier.

The dagger blade was pure, bright red, crystal and it sang a song of the Dark Side into the Force even as it's thirst was momentarily quenched as the blade was brought down into the heart of the jock boyfriend who had been driving the other speeder. As he was dying, the togruta man reached into his now open torso and pulled out the heart.

More of the situation became clear as she was able to pull her eyes away from the blade to check the area.

In the middle of the clearing, a stone bowl was placed with a drain in the middle, leading deeper into the ground. Spread around the bowl, on raised stone slabs, were the college students from before, the slabs tilted so their heads were pointed towards the centre of the bowl. The woman who had slung slurs was already dead, a wound identical to the one her boyfriend had just been given on her torso.

The nerdy girl and the stoner boy were still alive, struggling against leather bindings and screaming for her to help them through leather gags in their mouths. They begged her to save them from the togruta man who, upon spotting Nash, immediately froze in place as a whole-body blush began to spread over him.

And she could see that because he appeared to mostly be "clothed" in a scrap of leather and weird, arcane, runes written along his body in drying blood.

There was a beat of silence, broken by a wet squelch as he removed the kyber crystal blade.

"Um... h-hello? Can I help you with something?"

@Sreeya @Fine Dining Set @Javier esschoolbus @Rom

 

[Nash]

This was weird. Way too weird. She had seen some things on Nar Hutta, but this was next level. She had no qualms with beating the shit out of others or fighting them, but seeing the college kids strung up like animals was bizarre as all hell. Nash slowly drew out one of her knives, genuinely freaked out by that point. A part of her told her to run away, but most of her was entirely too curious about the weapon the Togruta held.

The stupid college kids gave her away by begging to be freed, the Togruta turning to look at her. Before he could even finish his question and before she could process what she was doing, Nash hurled the knife guided by the Force directly at his chest.

"Creepy little shit!"

@Nefieslab @Fine Dining Set @Javier esschoolbus @Rom

 

[Veltharion]

Veltharion remained standing by the boat with the old man and the charhounds, looking out over the mists and the distant hillock where their prize waited. He eyed the trees dubiously, not sure if the branches could even support his weight, to say nothing of the diseased and dead looking wood making up the lower half of the trunk. The Barabel Acolyte had almost turned away to go follow Smash and see what she was doing when he noticed Arak walking through the mist in his fancy clothes, the rich red hue of his skin fading just like everything else in the mists had faded to gray.

"Professor!! Look at your handz! The mistz! You must stay out of the mistz!" Turning toward the old man Vel pointed out to the gray toned landscape and hissed, sanguine eyes hard and tail whipping behind him in agitation. "What iz this mist, why is it turning the Professor gray like the land??"

@Sreeya @Javier esschoolbus @Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

The scary mist told him to breathe deeply. Voss felt like that was a bad idea. He took shallow breaths, stepping lightly towards the plants as he stretched out his hands. He reached towards the plant with his right hand, plucking in tenderly as he looked back to the group.

"Do we just need one? Or like...more?" Vossari remembered the horrible side effects of these plants - psychotic nightmares, painful illusions, a never-ending dream of torment? That sounded like the perfect kind of plant for a certain alchemist to use to his advantage. Vossari gingerly plucked a second plant and pocketed it, celebrating obtusely.

He hadn't started to notice his own de-melanation, nor did he notice Arak's pigment start to drain. Voss sorta just thought it was a skin condition, or something. Right?

 

[Arak Ragnos]

Arak had jumped up into the tree and begun itching his hands. Was the mist really that bad? It didn’t seem like it would be that bad. It would allow him to analyze it and find a way to replicate it. He shook his head. No, the toxin was a toxin for a reason. He can’t breathe it in.

As Scales called out about his hands he looked down and noticed they were losing color. He spoke out to Braids (@Fine Dining Set) through his telepathic connection. “The poison is draining the color from my skin. Grab a handful of the flowers and get out now.” He would look around to find a way to get back to the boat without getting in the mist.

He called out to Scales (@Rom) “Help clear path for Braids and me.” They needed a path back to ship before either of them fell to the toxins poison.

@Sreeya @Nefieslab

 

[The Storyteller]

A pulse in the Force emanated around the ritual ground as blood from the two slaughtered teenagers was drained into the drain built into the ground. Nash, as the only Force Sensitive in the clearing, would feel it clearly as a sense of hunger being satiated rang through the Force, clear as a bell in her mind without any need for her to focus on trying to decipher the meaning.

Which was good because trying to use empathy on an unknown Force presence was a little bit difficult when throwing knives at creepy little shits.

Her blade flew fast and it flew true but the togruta conducting the ritual was fast on the uptake as well, throwing himself backward and twisting in the air to try and avoid the knife. Instead of being impaled, the knife slashed the front of his chest open lightly, a shallow horizontal line of red blood blossoming as he fell backwards and to Nash's left.

The fall took him out of her immediate view, the slab holding the former driver upside down between himself and Nash. Rushing along on his feet, the togruta grabbed the emergency blaster pistol from where it was strapped to the bottom of the slab - a hold out pistol for when interlopers tried to get involved like this. Springing up, he would let out a blast towards Nash's chest with the pistol in his left hand and the dagger in his right.

"The Feeding can't be left half finished! You don't understand!"

-- MEANWHILE, SOMEWHERE LESS CULT-Y --​

The old man didn't react as though any of the goings on currently were any concern of his - after all, they weren't. He lived here and he didn't care much if the tourists died or not, he was just here to enjoy his time on the waters of the swamp and jungle. But, still, when Veltharion demanded an explanation as to the nature of the mist and why it messed with both the land and the sentient life around, he decided to tell him what he knew.

Lest the dragon-man decide to try and bite him or throw him overboard his own speeder.

"Whel ay'm nahwt sure what the mist is, ta tell ya the truth. Thay ...uhh cult bak there believes it is something done produced by ayy a-sleepin' god ov destrucshun. Sownds possible ta me ay reckon."

As Voassari reached down and grabbed one of the plants, he would immediately be assaulted by a presence in the Force. Something that was mentally attacking him through the touch of his hand, covered though it was, against the plant that now rested in his hand. The mental attacks would send wave after wave of horrible memories and experiences at him in a barrage - one that was entirely instinctive. Regardless of how well he weathered the assault, Vossari would know, immediately, that this was not an attack by the massive presence in the Force he was dealing with.

It was the Force equivalent of a dog kicking at a flee in his sleep.

A deep pulse ran through the Force and a sense of satiating hunger seemed to flow through the Force around them all. Arak, with something still trying to whisper into his mind, would find that the voices were distracted. They sensed the feeling of satiated hunger as if it was there own. No... it was their own. What was uttering into his ear felt its hunger being satiated but it was not yet full.

The ground shook and Velharion and the speeder would shake as well, the speeder hovering over suddenly choppy waters. Vossari would need to have resisted the instinctive mental assault to keep his balance and, with a start, Arak would hear the threatening 'Creak!' and 'Crack!' of the trunk of the tree as it began to fall toward the speeder and the water's edge, giving the Sith a platform from which to jump that was getting closer to the water and away from the dead shoreline.

@Sreeya @Fine Dining Set @Javier esschoolbus @Rom

 

[Veltharion]

Veltharion stilled as the old man's words resounded in his head, thoughts racing over the cultists and the strange sense of things in the Force - it felt like the Hungry One, and the Barabel shaman-turned-acolyte knew better than most the dangers of meddling with sleeping gods. The earth began to shake, the water beneath the boat foaming and tossing against the sides as Vel steadied himself with his tail only to whip around at the sound of ominous crackle of wood as the trees began faltering.

He cursed and barked out an order for the old man to move the boat back in case the tree collapsed and reached out with the Force, attempting to catch and steady the falling tree before it could hit the ground and envelop the Professor (@Javier esschoolbus ) in the toxic mist once more.

"Use the treez and get back to the boat! This one will hold!"

@Sreeya @Fine Dining Set

 

[Nash]

Nash saw the Togruta level the blaster and she ducked to the side, the bolt missing her chest but grazed the side of her arm. She yelped in pain, but the adrenaline rush kept her going. Right away she could sense the dagger through the Force and could somehow tell it wanted to act against the cultist. The logic made no sense - how could a dagger have thoughts? Whatever, none of that mattered.

Instead of calling the dagger to herself with the Force, Nash attempted to liberate it from the Togruta’s hand but in a trajectory that would hopefully embed into his own throat. With how badly the dagger protested against the cultist, she only hoped that it would take a little nudge to act against the Togruta.

If her actions were successful and she dropped the Togruta, Nash would actually cut the surviving college kids free. As terrible as they were, this was too sketchy even for her.

@Nefieslab @Javier esschoolbus @Rom @Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Vossari felt a strange power when his mind reached out - not from the mist, per se, but from whatever was generating the mist. When he plucked the flower, he felt that power rush towards his mind, to try to penetrate inwards, take control, to make Vossari SEE.

Vossari felt power unlike any which he had been exposed to before. This power threatened to ruin his own mind, if he did not act quickly enough to deal with it. Vossari was twitchy, though, and reacted quickly enough to redirect this terrible power. Within the realm of the mind, he could sense that this was not a conscious attack on him as a person, but an inherent reaction to having a part of it - the flower - plucked out. Vossari could almost visualize the weak point in such an attack, so much force funneled without any true direction. It was...clumsy. And that clumsiness proved to be its weakness.

But through the tangible touch of their minds, Vossari learned the vague shape of the being they were dealing with. Images played through his mind of an ancient beast - massive, mighty, and filled to the brim with Dark Side energy - engorging itself on the souls and fears of those unlucky enough to make contact with it. Their spirits, forever trapped as shards of memory in the Beast's mental prison. It drained their essence the same way it drained Arak of color.

Other images spilled it - of might battles, with ancient-looking weapons and armor. Of a wound, deep and buried into the Beast's heart. It was a wound deep enough that the beast had to retreat to its lair....

The pieces clicked together. If vossari closed out the outside distractions, he could almost hear it. Just barely feel it. The rhythm of a slowly beating, hibernating, heart beneath their feet. They were standing on this beast. All this Dark Side energy was just its restless exhales, into the night.

As much of an intellectual curiosity as this was, Voss had no Sith Master by his side to protect him. "Let's GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!" He bellowed, as he turned and ran back to the old man and the dog.

 

[Arak Ragnos]

The voices began to quiet as a felling of being satiated washed over him. Why did he feel like he was satiated as well he didn't even do anything. Arak was trying to figure out his path to the boat. Suddenly the floor began shaking and the tree he was currently on began to collapse.

He was on a crash course down to the waterline. As the tree approached the edge of the mist he jumped up and towards the speeder avoiding the mist. In his mind the jump was spectacular and he would land perfectly on the seat prepared to continue driving. In reality it was sloppy at best and while he did land on the seat it was stomach first forcing the wind out of him. He dropped onto the deck in a coughing fit trying to regain his breath.

He heard Braids call out about leaving, and he knew Scales and Smash never left the boat. As he got his breath back and got up he quickly realized he was wrong. Smash was no where to be seen around them. He quickly turned to Scales (@Rom) , "Where's Smash?" He was almost yelling his voice urgent as he was realizing he never noticed her leaving the group.

Did the cultists take her? Did she aimlessly wander into the mist and was now colorless like everything else? He began trying to search outward with the Force looking for her in the surrounding. He had to at least try to find her before leaving her behind, after all she was interesting to be around and it would be a shame if she was gone.

@Fine Dining Set @Sreeya @Nefieslab

 

[The Storyteller]

While Nash was pondering how a crystal could feel like it had wants and desires, the cultist in question was wondering just how everything was going wrong and panicking. His shot hadn't landed and the stress of the situation was beginning to get to him - his hands were shaking and even when he went to take another shot at Nash, his aim was so far off that it flew right over the Sith's head without her needing to so much as move.

"D-damn it, this isn't how its supposed to happen!"

Distracted as he was, he didn't notice the way the dagger seemed to twist around in his hand, instead he focused on the fact that Nash was moving towards the prisoners, that she was going to free them. White hot panic rushed through his entire body and he tried to raise the pistol again when he realised... that wasn't panic rushing through him, it was pain.

The shock began to wear off as he looked down, only now becoming aware of the fact that the dagger had torn itself from his hand with Nash's prompting and it had rocketed upward. Directly into the bottom on his mouth, through the base right up through his tongue and, up still, through the roof of his mouth.

Blood gushed from his mouth, both from the hole at the bottom of it and through his gritted teeth even as he fell to his knees. His pistol lay forgotten as he desperately tried to pull at the dagger, finding it stuck fast in his bones - either that or his rapid blood-loss and shock robbing him of his strength.

With the cultist busy choking on his own blood, and part of his severed tongue, Nash would find no resistance as she cut down the surviving college kids. The stoner looked to be near catatonic with fear and confusion but the nerdy one grabbed hold of him and tried to drag him away from the drain in the middle of the clearing. She turned to Nash, grateful but wide-eyed with fear and instinctive mistrust,

"We need to get the hells out of here... that maniac was trying to use our blood to satisfy the hunger of something buried underground here... I... I think it might be real..."

As she spoke, the ground shook ominously.

-- MEANWHILE, SOMEWHERE LESS CULT-Y --​

The woodsman didn't need telling twice - he immediately grabbed the controls and pulled the speeder back to avoid having it taken out by falling timber. Timber had, after all, proven that it could completely destroy armoured military vehicles on Endor, what hope would his little civilian speeder have against a tree? None, and his insurance was unlikely to cover "acts of murderous sleeping monster".

Of course he wasn't really prepared for the red fellow to come flying through the air towards him at the helm, stomach-first. Cursing loudly, the old man threw himself out of the way and Arak got a gut-ful of seat rather than old-man-lap as a landing pad. Still cursing, the old man pulled the pureblood up to his feet - both to help him up and to get himself back in the driver's seat.

"She done went a-lookin' faw trouble ayn' ay think she done might have done found it!"

Pulling the speeder into reverse, the old man cursed louder still, both of the charhounds barking loudly, as the ground shook once again. This time the shaking was more pronounced and he could swear that parts of the ground were visibly beginning to crack. Pulling the speeder into a spin, he parked it along the edge of the shore that Nash had gone running up and leaned forward on the horn.

If they were already waking up some dead god-thing then what the fuck did it matter if he beeped the horn?

"Aw heck, aw heck, aw heck, aw heck..."

@Sreeya @Fine Dining Set @Javier esschoolbus @Rom

 

[Veltharion]

Veltharion was chanting softly under his breath as the speeder rumbled to life and his fellow Acolytes scrambled on board, his hands held palm down at his sides and the Force twisting strangely around him. As a shaman of his own people Veltharion was not unfamiliar with matters of spirits and entities - the Hungry One was a colossal manifestation of the Darkside and Vel had been making offerings and sacrifices to it for as long as he could remember.

The trick to dealing with an entity was in knowing three things; what it wanted, its domain, and its name. Veltharion didn't have any of it.

Instead of reaching out to the vast, stirring presence beneath them without knowing these things, the Barabel instead concentrated on projecting feelings of glut and satisfaction, of hunger sated and the warmth and heaviness of rest that beckoned after eating its fill toward the sense of the entity, hoping to lull it back into a restful state until Nash could make it back to the boat and they could escape this swamp before the genus loci could rouse itself and claim them.